


Versace Eros

by xCloudy



Series: Last Friday Night [2]
Category: Powerpuff Girls
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Drinking, Eventual Romance, F/M, I Can't Believe I Wrote This, I Don't Even Know, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Sex, One Shot, Secret Crush
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-06
Updated: 2020-10-06
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:27:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26859715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xCloudy/pseuds/xCloudy
Summary: The only thing you could do after accidentally initiating a hot and steamy encounter is to ignore, avoid, and blame him for all your problems. But if that person is Brick who always demands an answer to almost everything in life, the only thing Blossom could do is start a fight, resist her urge and hope he pisses off into next year.
Relationships: Brick/Blossom Utonium
Series: Last Friday Night [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2083092
Comments: 4
Kudos: 48





	Versace Eros

* * *

“Just… keep doing _that_ ,” He groaned, his fingers carefully covering her lips in a surprisingly gentle manner as he exercised some restraint, “Right… _there_.”

She huffed in her position, her pores like canyons to the cold air. The uncanny urge to lick his fingers were now being downed by the harsh ruffling of his tailored pleat curtain. The autumn breeze circled through the air like the unwanted gust it was; reminding her of the distance between their bodies. The soreness made it hard for her to move, her body couldn’t yet comprehend his athleticism. Until now, she hadn’t realized how appealing sweat on bare chest could be. She never thought it possible that she had a hidden wild side, the type that wanted to lick him clean- the type that wanted him to do **_it_** all over again.

“I can’t find my jersey,” she mustered while wrapped in a thin white satin sheet. The grey duvet now a rumpled pile on the floor as she scanned his room for her personal effects.

“Then just wear mines,” he grunted, taking a nicotine square in hand and watching the half-naked girl scavenge the area. The shirt he gave her was standard fare, barely used, never washed, and something he knew she’d never be caught dead in.

This was a test; a test! He had won the moment he got the second hook off. He had won the moment she had flung her own jeans off… he had won.

His eyes scanned over her body, milking in the moment, savoring the memory, salvaging his afterthoughts. To be fair, she wasn’t completely in her own head, but there was no way Blossom could have blamed what just happened on exam jitters; she _needed_ it.

“Brick!” she whispered in a squeal.

“The fuck Blossom?”

“Don’t swear.”

“Are you seriously going to-” Even now she was the prim and proper, never did a wrong, teacher’s pet he couldn’t stand. He hated it when she was like this; a bitch. Always nagging, never taking an ease off… just always getting on his nerves.

_But then she cut his sentence short._

“I can’t find my...” her voice shaky, her ears tinted a fluorescent pink. When realization struck him, it was becoming exceedingly hard to suppress his laugh. She buttoned his red shirt with haste, pouting at his actions.

“Panties?” He teased, right before hearing the loud slam of his front door. Eyes were opened like saucer once more as he took the time to convince the pants right back on her. Despite him seeing everything a few minutes ago, she was red-faced embarrassed.

“Turn around, will you?” She pouted, bending over bare-bottomed for her jeans. The sound of grocery bags already trickling through the downstairs hall became a tragedy for her and it was worse hearing the boisterous voices of his dormmates. The smell of sweat and musk tried desperately to escape through the opened window as it became masked by the scent of citrus air freshener.

“How was it?” He laughed, returning to her a brown floral knapsack.

“Screw you,” her socks being pulled too high and her flats cramping her heels.

“You already did,” he paused, watching her fume and simmer, daring her to overreact in this situation. “ _Babe_ ,”

God, she hated him.

The sound of pen to paper was like a harmonious fluid to Blossom’s ear. Every tick, every scratch, and every scribble made her quiver with glee. Lectures were perfectly capable of distracting her from the unsettling thoughts which constantly floated through her head. She’d walk into Bioethics late that morning; a very _rare_ occasion but she lived by the words, ‘better late than never.’ However, that time, pencils stopped writing, mouths stop talking and eyes kept staring.

Great! _Attention_.

Elmer had been staring at her since she walked in and it wasn’t in his usual, ‘we’d get married someday’ kind of way. His eyes were fixated; focused, as was the rest of the class… for the most part. Boomer was the one too focused on finishing his text message to even realize the awkward class situation... and he was only auditing the class anyway, so it made sense he never paid attention.

The question, ‘ _Did they know? Did Brick snitch_?’ were obviously what she’d purposely dive into her studies to forget. She didn’t want to be just another name on his conquest and she sure as hell didn’t want to be the rebound girl after he and… well… Brick didn’t like to talk about _her_.

Nose was pointed high, knapsack was tightened at her back as she took a chance at grabbing a seat with much confidence. On a usual day, the first available front-row seat would have likely been hers but today, today she was embarrassed… and God did she hate Brick.

“ _Sharing is caring_ ,” Boomer’d say; every Monday morning like it was scripted. He was purposely scrappy; semi-formal with a loosened tie and that goddamned bed hair which was begging to combed. A dark shade circled his eyes and weighed his eyelid to reveal slightly pink corneas.

As per usual, Buttercup’s been harassed ever since her baked Negotiation Mastery’s lecturer decided that being eight months in was a perfect time for taking maternity leave in the middle of the goddamned semester when she had pertinent questions to be answered and the substitute lecturer was just a fad who probably believed throwing money around was the answer to everything.

“You look… different,” These three words taunted Blossom that morning, and even though Buttercup has said it in a tired, coffee-starved, head on the table, barely looking kind of way, Blossom was unhinged.

Different, how? Was the old wives’ tale the truth? She hadn’t had sex in about a year before last Saturday night, and she didn’t visit Brick’s flat with the intention of getting her toes curled or having her eyes roll straight back with a crazy good lay.

He was hot… granted, it was probably the _only_ thing he had going for him… that and his promising software and media development degree. But it still didn’t warrant her actions, and she still didn’t know what urged her to make that first kiss, or why he’d taken the liberty of going a bit further, or why the fuck she liked every single touch — _rough and gentle_ — he graced her body.

To be honest, it was true that her acne had cleared and her skin glowed like the summer’s sky but she swears it to the God Almighty that it was solely her charcoal facemask and that expensive drunken elephant face peel.

A bit earlier in class, she’d felt weird under the TA’s gaze, as if he knew. God, she hoped he didn’t know. She particularly liked that one and it wasn’t because he was blessed with a face similar to Steph Curry.

Well… it wasn’t _just_ because of his facial features; he had good qualities too… like he was ethical and… a very informative postgraduate student who did a very good job of translating the lecturer’s words into simple English. So the day that Boomer could stop spilling the beans to Buttercup that she’d been possibly staring, she’d stop being so grumpy at their Monday morning lunch breaks... Boomer wasn't even an official member of that class! He was freaking auditing it for crying out loud!

And it was relieving to know that the others were either busy in class or their extracurricular activities on Mondays because if Brick wasn’t at his internship, she’d probably be too embarrassed or too angry to sit with him right now. Truth was, her perverse ideology was dead wrong. No one was looking at _her_ per se, but her hair. There was this ribbon, or scrunchie… whatever… she’d always have tied tightly in her hair. And despite it being a subconscious action to use that same style of band over the years, it was her signature. She’d only realized she’d been out of that set this morning so that hair-damaging black rubber band in her hair was her last resort because she wasn’t about to walk in class with her long hair flying in her face whilst she tried to take notes. A rubber band wasn’t much for others to comment on, but the oddity of her routine change was enough to quiet a class or a conversation for a few seconds.

Who knows, her scrunchie was probably still laying around in Brick’s messy room alongside the other personal effects she lost in her haste. To think that she of such grace could lose such delicates like _panties_ … it still felt like a wild dream to her because one moment he was helping her out with some resume design and the next she sank right into his Versace Eros aroma.

She was a slave to contradiction. He was wrong for her, which at that point in time, made him the perfect fit. They never really got along, not even for a second. Brick was nothing but rude to her the first time they met, going as far as calling her a ‘cheap wannabe’ just because she wasn’t like the rest. Any old resident of Townsville knew the fights between old money and new money were shitty, unnecessary, and downright belligerent. Despite Blossom pretending she didn’t know who the fuck-faced Brick was when Bubbles first introduced him — _as her ‘IT guy’ who helped her through some med programming course she took in semester one_ — Blossom couldn’t forget the time he whispered in her ear, ‘ _old money trumps new money_ ’ before making her eat a fistful of sand in the Poakey Oaks playground when she was seven.

But now… she had remembered how rigid her movements were, how unsure and insecure she was, but she also remembered how ready he looked. It was an expression she had never seen before. He looked soft, he looked at peace… and then, then _he turned into a hunk of a man that she’d never seen before._ Intense was a joke and that urge between her enlightened, and it shook her with such vigor, such finesse that she, that she...

A pain like no other, yet so filled with pleasure. Then, somewhere within their twelve minutes in between sheets, he had kissed her again and damn it to hell, she loved it when her lips were bitten. She knew she was no good, but at that moment, he made her feel perfect. And when it was over, he was back to normal, even going as far as laughing at how quickly she became was undone.

That just made her hate him more.

“Different how?” She finally asked her voice a bit jagged from thinking of such unpleasant things.

“I thought the hair-thingy gave you character,” Boomer humbly replied, his face buried in tablet as he triple-checked his due paper, “But to each their own, right?”

She smiled, mostly to herself as she dug her fries into a small pool of ketchup, “My scrunchie? I’m out of that style. I’ll probably have to order a new set sometime this week.”

“Change is good too… hey Buttercup.”

“I don’t care if it’s on my way home, I said I'm _not_ getting your shitting laundry.”

“Why are we even friends?” He groaned, fixing a misplaced citation before chugging on his caffeinated soda.

Brick figured, three days after being on the receiving end of Blossom’s unkept rage, her vicious stares, and a few backhanded insults. He’d just have to cut his ties and try to stop being friendly with her. Which, kind of sucked because he enjoyed her company... _a lot_! She practically screamed criminal or trial law lawyer which was all sorts of a strong-willed turn-on for him… not to mention dedication on her part. But being on the raw end of whatever this was, because of something _she_ started and ended _with a very please note_ he must add, was fucking nuts and he wasn’t about nuts.

She wasn’t even supposed to be at Princess’ party. He’d heard from the grapevine which was Bubbles that she wasn’t going to be there, so he had full intentions of mingling with Princess’ crowd, getting a fair dose of his contacts, and bailing early because he knew the difference between her actual parties and her booze fests. Did Brick ever mention how much he absolutely _hated_ the presence of too many people in a confinded space and how much it always made him rush to his anxiety calming nicotine square he was trying to quit?

But somehow, she was there. Bored out of her mind and searching through the refrigerator for more of those lime chips she liked and instantly fell in love with. And it pissed him off that she’d started accusing _him_ of ‘kissing and telling’ just because Butch made a joke about them sleeping together after she’d been catty all week.

He probably shouldn’t have done it, but it didn’t feel right leaving things as they were, so he chased her until she’d locked herself behind the upstairs bathroom door.

“Why is it that _you’re_ the one ignoring me?”

“If you know that, why are _you_ following me?”

“Earth to Blossom, in the real world, _I’m_ supposed to be the one ignoring _you_ ,”

She opened the door with a wry smile on her face, arms buckled to her sides and a chin stuck so high up in the air, you’d swear her neck was broken or something.

“Funny how it turned out huh?” She said, smiling wickedly at the hunk of a man before her. Her mind quickly pondered whether or not locking herself in that donkey shit of puke-filled bathroom was better than facing the demon that is Brick Caffrey before her. The demon with a jawline sharper than her eye-liner and a 5 o’clock shadow that could possibly bring her to her damn knees (again)… not that she’d openly admit it though; dammit he was attractive.

“Fucking talk to me!” he shouted, the influence of alcohol making him on edge, the unintended threats laced under his tongue.

She knew he was a bad drinker… and even worse, a fucking shitty person. It’s almost as if these shit brick, self-entitled, privileged jackholes were made in a factory and _you’re the asshole_ if you don’t give them what they wanted. Between him, the darn spiked punch, and those fashionably uncomfortable, overpriced shoes she was wearing, the party blew balls. She’d have loved kicking back and getting some good groves down on the dancefloor like the next person but frankly, that wasn’t her night. Between her ride Dexter ditching her to go hang out with his on-again, off-again girlfriend, and her having to possibly carpool with Harry Pits of all people — _because Bubbles didn’t know she was there… and if she did, she’d complain… and she couldn’t ask Boomer for a ride because Bubbles would freak out since he was such an active playboy and flirt._

“Jeez Brick, you kiss your mom with those lips?”

“I kissed you with it didn’t I?”

“Kill me now,” she grunted, faking sickness.

Maybe she was a sociopath or just a god-awful person like him, but seeing that exasperated look on his face made the neurons in her head spark up in delight. Desperation was an emotion he’d always have a knack of perfecting; being to not rat him out to his blissfully ignorant father, or to get those extra points to earn his squad the easy ride to championship. Whatever it was, he was just too darn good at the sad puppy bit.

“Fuck it, you fucking hell know I didn’t tell nobody,”

“What? Brick? That wasn’t…” she sighed, removing herself from the frame of the smelly as hell door frame and back to the sanctuary that was the hallways. “I just…”

“You just, you just what?”

She rolled her eyes, shifting aside to let a drunken couple pass, “Don’t take that tone with me,”

“Don’t take that tone with me,” he mocked, mimicking her crappy attempt of a standoff, “I just don’t fucking get why you have to start a fight for everything,”

“I’m starting a fight? _You_ came to _me_!”

“To ask what the fuck I did wrong, but apparently you’re too—”

“I’m too what? Huh, Brick? I’m too what?”

“Fucking pig-headed to see that someone actually cares about you!”

She paused, biting her fingernails awkwardly as she calculated a plausible answer. Uncomfortable and unseasonably warm, she leaned against the wall and stared dumbly at him; forcibly blinking all the while. He watched in amusement as he saw the embarrassment cloud her judgment. If it’s anything, it made her look cute, like Yin his fourth-grade pet hamster; a monster after his own heart.

“Embarrassed?” he asked, voice softening, arms stretched out to encapsulate her. They were always like this, fighting for no reason and making up by small gestures. They destructively complimented each other. She may have been the accent wall to his trimmings, but she could have never been the PB to his J. They didn’t work like that. Even now, semi-secluded in between a few drugged up, handsy, hormonal teens, there wasn’t the slightest urge for him to viciously attack her in the comfort of the dark.

There wasn’t the urge to slide his slightly callused fingers along her long peek-a-boo legs and drag her body on top of his. Not even was there a need her him to feel the sensation of her digging her nails into his back once more… but _there was a need_. He had a lot of factors to cast blame towards, like those darn nicotine squares he’s ‘casually’ addicted to, or the fact that he knocked back a few drinks at the poker table… or the alarming surprise of seeing Blossom in a high double slit long sleeve dress… showing unblemished skin which was far too accustomed to being covered.

She wiggled free from his embrace, hugging herself in a tight bond, and avoiding eye contact. With only the tunes from the deejay downstairs echoing in her ears, she followed the hallway until it emptied into the outlook. She… still felt broken… knowing that... well … he… And well, let's just say his ex was just this frigging perfect mix of rainbows and sunshine… and she was pretty sure Brick still stole glances at her at the food court. It was something Blossom didn’t care about before… she kind of felt sorry for him… but now that pity belonged to her because she made strings where there shouldn’t have been any, and she was so sure that he was still attached to someone he’d broken up with 2 whole months ago. And she hated herself for it… _and him more_ because he was blindly _good_ to look at.

She could have just gone back, picked a fight, and say what really on her mind but… she knew how shitty he was… she knew that she’d probably never agree to anything serious with him… because he'd never ask. But it was apples to oranges; she didn’t care. He scratched his head, pissed off at his sudden growth and stiffness, mad as hell at her constant mixed signals; as if she should have a ‘ _complicated’_ disclaimer for future references.

He returned downstairs to mold with the others. Even made his presence known in the atrium as he looked up to the cloudy Blossom; striking a confident smirk as he sipped his drink. When hands started flying in the air, and girls with their shaky cups started nearing him for a dance or a grind, that was his cue to leave. The smell of Eros still on his shirt and mixed with some spilled liquor as he gingerly tried to peel the girl — _who nearly landed a sloppy kiss on his_ mouth — off himself, and grimacing on the mess her cakey makeup left on his shirt. Bubbles barely got a glimpse of him and his pissed-off face as Mr. _I’m-always-in-a-hurry_ rushed to his car with his plastic cup of soda water and lime juice to wait out his inebriation with.

By the time he was good and ready, he’d spotted Blossom waiting on the curb as Harry Pitts pulled out the car park with his dingy car and broken taillight. More out of his own amusement than his willingness to help, because he was pretty sure Bubbles came with a designated driver or two — _the girl was always careful about things like that_ — and even if Princess didn’t particularly fancy Blossom, she wouldn’t let the girl go home in a rideshare when there were _good_ rooms in that rented house of hers, but he flashed his headlights at her and smirked when she squinted eyes recognized the person behind the metallic silver sedan he drove.

By then it was a silent battle of wills, and being honest here, even if it wasn’t much, Harry looked like he’d drank a few and with that busted taillight of his, the chances of him being pulled over were high. So, if he was responsible enough to pull-over and wait his drunkenness out like a few of the parked cars in there, the chances of Blossom reaching home quickly and incident-free were next to none.

He tapped playfully on his horn, almost showing how fucking entertaining her internal fight with herself was with a huge cackle. Watching her feet stagger to his car as she waved an apologetic goodbye to Harry was probably the highlight of the evening, and the way she pulled off her heels and shoved it in his car before entering, threatening him with a, “don’t even,” before she sat and buckled herself in was too much _not_ to enjoy.

They had this twisted way of getting on each other’s nerves like it was okay. Heck, Blossom sometimes wondered what kind of hell her high school life would have been if she’d gone to that over-embellished Preparatory school her mom gushed about instead of her run-of-the mill private school instead. She and Brick didn’t have any coinciding classes and still she often had thoughts of strangling that perfect little face of his because he was too goddamned annoying. Imagine the horror it would have been sharing an English class with him or having to do a group project back when she had less control of her angered emotions.

“So, you’re not mad at me anymore?”

She rolled her eyes feeling silly for even thinking about such 'what ifs'. Truth was, if she'd gone to the same high school as Brick, she'd probably be in jail for manslaughter or just attempted, becuase he was such a masshole at their sportsmeet that she was pissed she never had the nerve to egg his house on halloween and run. “Did I leave my scrunchie at yours?”

Brick pulled out of the parking lot slowly, his left hand searching through his dashboard to pull out the peach mesh-like elastic with a cute red ribbon bow on top, “You mean this?” he asked, taking the time to tie it in a section of his hair, “I think I look better with it… what’ja think? Wore it to class on Monday; great reviews.”

 _And therein lay the second reason why some people stared at Blossom._ She wasn’t wearing it, but he was… and anyone who assumed to know the full brunt of their relationship could only expect to see a storm worthy of recording brewing.

“You’re such an ass.”

 _“And..._ I found your underwear.”

She rolled her eyes, “Burn it.”

He tapped his finger on the wheel as turned the radio on. Replying to a statement like that needed a certain finesse, especially since he felt like the ball was finally in his court. “I’d rather keep it; I think I want to make a set.”

She rolled her eyes again and a kill-me-now groan was threatening to erupt as she sunk in his passenger’s seat.

“Nothing? Not even a peep?”

Looking at the passing trees and foliage never seemed so peaceful and distracting before, because she already realized that Brick wanted to talk about their shared evening together.

“I guess you lost your voice after—”

“Oh my gosh… could you not!”

 _“And_ she talks.”

“Screw you.”

He didn’t even bother to reply. Instead, he took his eyes off the road for a second to give her a suggestive wink that held meanings of things she didn’t want to talk about with him right then or _ever_.

“Fuck. Shit. Uggh!”

“So…”

“No.”

“You don’t even know what I was going to say!”

“Could you just focus on the road?”

He fake-pouted, just enjoying how riled up she’d been getting. But he behaved, just rose the tunes on the radio as he drove along the path to her dorm. A few times she’d hum along to the beat, tapping her fingers on her leg which was slightly exposed by the fabric. And Brick didn’t dare look at the way it crept up to her thighs, because if he did, he wouldn’t be focusing on the road and that happy surprise that overcame him in that blessed moment in his room might have made him pull over to calm his mind or speed down streets, possibly breaking lights to get her home before he’d do something stupid like ask for a repeat while she was still in the car.

So, she was home — _incident-free as promised_ — and her fingers lingered on his car door with his windows down as if she was trying to find the words to say. Something similar to a 'thanks' was shyly said, and she hadn’t the nerve to pull her scrunchie out his hair, because she knew a 'bait' when she saw it and she wasn't in the mood for Brick to grab her extended arm and probably glide his sensonry altering fingers along her arm just for a tease. Instead, she just pulled her lips in tightly and tapped on the door with a somewhat friendly nod as she took in a deep breath.

“Did you regret Saturday?”

Something in his voice made her feel guilty for her actions, and by the way he posed the question, she understood he was saying that he didn’t. But words didn’t leave her, and sleeping with someone outside a committed relationship wasn’t something she did… and the idea of it being a one-night-stand kind of felt awkward because… he’s mutual friends with her circle... she couldn’t ignore him or pretend it didn’t happen, or he didn’t exist... and… _she_ was the one who initiated it. Because he smelt good, and looked good, and their faces were so close because he was helping her with a cool resume design and… _she was in the mood_.

And when he’d gotten that slow, meek, head shake of a ‘no’. He’d taken a serious demeanor she’d only see when he was studying late night at their campus library, “Good, cause I didn’t… and if it's okay with you.” Now his mouth was moving on his own because his mind was blank, the radio had started its 11 pm erotic music session and he was curious about what bran shit his mouth wanted to spew, “I don’t mind… going for coffee… real coffee… just us… not with, _you know_ , Bubbles or the others... and probably doing _that_ thing again a bit later…" he quickly clarified what he meant, "after a few meals… and coffee… and—”

“Are you asking me out on a date?”

“And more?”

“So... like a tinder date?” She was teasing now, but her acting skills were so great that Brick honestly thought she felt offended.

“As in dating?” So, he’d somehow manage to become redder than his hair, and even he was surprised that _that_ was what his smart mouth could think about. He should have started a fight. It was much easier and much more natural than… whatever he was trying to do now. And even if it would seem rude, he wanted more than ever to wind up his lightly tinted windows and drive out her car park and go the fuck home and wash his embarrassment off with a cold shower followed by three hours of hardcore studying and probably a prayer.

“As in... be your girlfriend or an easy and well-fed booty call.”

He laughed into a scoff, because who the fuck says ‘well-fed booty call? “The first one…” that was just as much embarrassment as he could take in one night, because if she was going to continue toying with him more before than big fucking ‘ _no_ ’ he was expecting, he was going to dye his hair, get plastic surgery and return to the campus as a new guy who did not willingly embarrass himself like this.

She shrugged as if he said something boringly casual. As if he didn’t possibly mess up their dynamics and asked if he could start a future with her after… well… arguing with each her about who should be ignoring who and other petty stuff like that. Then with a lean inside his car, she smiled gingerly and replied, “I think I’d like the sound of that.” As if she was the one holding the cards… as if she’s the one who was in charge.

And for some reason, hearing him ask her out on a whim made her shove those previous thoughts of rebound girl behind her head. Because he was the kind of semi-antisocial asshole who wouldn’t even waste his time with a rebound because he didn’t like anything that might lead to clinginess or whatever mess a rebound relationship would have caused. Not that she knew him… because he’s just friends with her friends… and technically her boyfriend now.

“So, are you going to kiss me now?”

She grimaced, taking giving him a kind and playful slap on his cheeks. “We didn’t even have our first date yet.”

“But we already—”

“Oh my gosh! Could you just leave?”

He pulled the scrunchie out his hair and extended it to her, “Here.”

She smiled brightly, inching towards her door before confessing, “It looks better on you… uh... good night.” she waved, with lips of fading gloss he wished he could bruise again.

God, and watching her sheepishly enter her place — _with a few of her dormmates eyes peeking excitedly behind the front door_ — made him feel like fist-pumping the air, but he didn’t because he had to play it cool. And that shit-eating grin followed by the joyful squeals at Blossom’s door was enough for the onlookers peeping through the windows to put-together that the two had gone official.

And you know what? That first ‘good night’ text he sent her was the first time he let himself feel absolutely and completely giddy about his secret — _now public crush_ — on Blossom. So screw that thought about Blossom staggering to his care with a flushed face being the highlight of his evening; she saying _'yes'_ was defineitely the first highlight of their lives.

* * *

**← ❤ • ❤ • ❤ →**

* * *

**Author's Note:**

> Somehow, I just felt like I should say ' _I'm sorry_ '.


End file.
